Indian Summer Angry Son
In the stone heart of an angry son, an angry son who has done his swallowing, his memories are bitten pills, so many bitten pills that he has collected. The broken ground he now moves on, this ground so unsettled, so endlessly unsettled. On the way to the sunken earth, and still he moves on This is earth Has moved on and collected, settled to his own liking, and still he moves on A voice in the back of his head reminding him that this is stolen, that this is not his br, br,
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